Cold and Dark
by William de Worde
Summary: An interrelated drabble series focusing on Pitch Black and Jack Frost. The current focus is on an AU roleswap verse I have in mind. Does not contain slash. 2: King of Nightmares, meet the Winter King. Please read and review.
1. Pitch Black

**Author's Notes: **Since I got a lot of inspiration from this movie, but don't have a lot of time to write anything for it, I decided to start a collection of interconnected short, almost drabble-ish pieces. As you can tell, I'm… experimenting with descriptions, so it may edge into purple prose at moments. This fic will eventually have some semblance of a plot, or more specifically, a role-swap verse I've been toying with.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Rise of the Guardians_.

**Summary: **Pitch gets an expected visitor.

* * *

Deep down under the Earth's surface, there is a palace, one unlike any on the Above. It is warped, an Escherian print brought recreated with bottomless, ever-shifting shadows. There are staircases that never end and dark hallways, in which one can traverse for days, months, years- and yet, can only return to the same point where they started.

The lair is filled with the chattering of what sound like birds. From the ceiling hang a large number of cages, reminiscent of cricket cages of centuries ago. They rattle constantly, their occupants eager to be free from their bonds. But it is to no avail; the latches hold fast, stronger than any mortal material. Thousands- no, _millions_ of golden containers cover the ground, the only color in an otherwise grayscale land.

This is a place that sunlight does not reach.

It is a lonely place, but its lone occupant enjoys his solitude. What need does the King of Nightmares have for company? He is far, _far_ away from the humans and the other spirits who roam the Earth; the only path to the surface a tunnel, partly covered by the rotting frame of a bed from long ago.

But today was _different_. Pitch toyed with the gilded container between his fingers, idly passing the time until his visitor arrived. He was expecting someone. A certain frost spirit who reminded him of himself, many years in the past.

Jack Frost. The boy- and, despite being three centuries old, Frost certainly _is_ still just a boy, in both form and mind- had claimed to be a neutral party, that he did not want to choose any sides in the ongoing war between Pitch and the so-called Guardians. But Pitch had seen him helping them, retrieving the children's teeth in lieu of the Tooth Fairy's missing assistants.

Pitch had wondered about that. Why would the spirit want anything to do with the Guardians? Unlike them, he did not need to be believed in to exist; even without the belief of a single child, Frost still had enough power to go head to head with Pitch himself.

He understood now.

The boy remembered nothing of his early life, and the Guardians had taken advantage of that. They promised to return his memories- contained inside Frost's teeth from when he was still a mortal- if he aided them against Pitch. But they had foolishly overlooked one important fact- their bargaining chip wasn't even in their possession.

The decorated tooth box was now in the hands of the Nightmare King. He held the slim container with two slender fingers, noticing a decal on one end- a stylized picture of a young boy with brown hair and eyes glinting with mischief, mouth permanently pressed in a childish grin. The mortal who would become known as Jack Frost.

With this prize, the Nightmare King could gain an ally in the winter spirit. After all, the boy only needed a slight push to see the truth. And what could possibly go better together than cold and dark?

Though Pitch had not heard anything from the box, he knew that it acted as a beacon, emitting a sound that only its owner could hear. Any second now, the immortal thought to himself. Frost was not a person who would pass up on a mystery, especially one about himself- he was too curious for that.

But as the humans said, curiosity killed the cat.

A loud noise came from the entrance to the cave, momentarily startling the small, hummingbird-like creatures trapped in the dark cages hanging from the roof of the lair. Frantic chirping filled the air, and their small prisons waved back and fro with the force of their struggles.

Pitch smiled to himself, flashing razor sharp teeth. Ah. Tucking away the small tooth container into the pocket of his shadowy robes, he melted into one of the many shadows of his palace. Like all predatory creatures, he preferred to have the element of surprise on his side.

There was a footstep, the sound of a bare foot striking the cold stone of the dark cave. And another.

He slipped out from the shadows with nary a whisper and, yellow eyes glinting, greeted his visitor. Say what you will about him, but the Nightmare King was a good host- and a good host always offers a gift to the guest. Gray fingers clenched on a slender, gilded container.

"Hello, Jack."

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Upcoming chapter: _King of Nightmares, meet the Winter King._


	2. Dark Winter

**Summary: **_King of Nightmares, meet the Winter King._

**Author's Notes: **_Continuing straight from the last chapter._

* * *

White hair framing a pale, youthful face. Icy blue eyes twinkling with mirth. But there was something intrinsically _off_ about this… _creature_. Instead of the boy Pitch was expecting, there stood something that was not anything even _close_ to humanity, despite its physical similarities.

Bright yellow eyes narrowed. "Who _are_ you?"

The thing looked up at him innocently. "Woah there!" It laughed brightly, "Getting straight to the point, huh? Not that nothing's wrong with that, of course- My name… well, I'd think you already know, seeing how you greeted me by it. But I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Who are _you_?"

Pitch met the other's eyes. What he saw there made him tense, an instinctual 'flight or fight' response. Whatever _it_ was- a sprite, a fairy, or even the winter spirit that it claimed to be- it was _ancient_. Even, he shuddered, older than himself, and he had been around before the Guardians- since the rise of humanity.

But… never let it be said that Pitch Black couldn't see opportunity when he found it. Though the other being was definitely _not_ Jack Frost- or at least not the one Pitch knew- he was _powerful_. And he _needed_ power to bring down the Guardians and take his rightful place on the top.

The Nightmare King returned the grin, though it could hardly be called that. It showed every single one of his razor sharp teeth, for one. It was a grin with claws and fangs.

"My apologies." Pitch drawled, "It was impolite of me to ask for your name before introducing myself. I am Pitch Black."

The other blinked in surprise, then looked amused. "…Pitch Black, huh? That's _interesting_. I didn't recognize you for a second there, what with your… getup."

"You know me?" He replied curiously, ignoring the jibe at his fashion choices.

"Yes and no; it's a very long story, better told somewhere with a smaller chance of being overheard." Frost gave him a meaningful look. "Just in case the… _other_ one decides to pay you a visit. Y'know, the one who looks like me?"

So, Jack Frost was on the way, the one he was familiar with. But with this unexpected visitor, Pitch's plans for Jack were blown to smithereens. And, besides, _this_ Jack Frost seems to be much more useful to him than the other, naïve _child_.

With that said, Pitch _needed_ to know how Jack Frost could be talking to him and flying toward his lair at the same time- two of the same being existing at the same time.

He smiled. "Yes, I know _exactly_ who you're talking about. Come, I'll give you a tour of my home, and you can explain then."

Which meant leading the other deeper into his home turf, giving Pitch an advantage over the other if their talks didn't go as he planned. With a wave of his hand, Pitch closed the entrance to the tunnel that lead to his cave, leaving a rather confused winter spirit to stop abruptly a few miles away, wondering why the voice calling his name had suddenly stopped.

Frost turned toward him with a smirk. "I _really_ like the place, Koz. But I have to say, mine's better- maybe I could show _you_ around sometime."

Pitch froze. How- _how_ did he know-? He spun around to face the winter spirit, who gave him a knowing smile.

"I know _all_ about you, _Pitchiner_." At this, a dark tendril of shadow rose behind Frost, only to be frozen be a casual wave of his hand. "Now, let's not be so hasty! _I _don't want to end this… partnership before we even begin."

The Nightmare King hissed in anger. "How do you know my true name?"

"I… know things." Frost 'hmm'ed. "Alright, how about this. Since I don't want you to feel like you're at a disadvantage, I'll give you _my_ true name as well."

Without waiting for an answer, he held out a pale hand. "Jokul Frosti. It's what the Norsemen called me- it's the most real name I have. The whole 'Jack Frost' business… well, that's just _modern_. I do a _lot_ worse than just nipping noses."

Pitch took his hand, albeit a little hesitantly.

It was deathly cold.

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Upcoming chapter: _A brief account of the life and times of Jokul Frosti_.


End file.
